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At the very center of Pinecone Ranch stood a magnificent estate.
Inside the study of the manor, the farm owner Zhao Tiangan held a binoculars in his hands, staring intently out the window. His gaze swept over rows of densely packed houses and fell upon the trade station by the wall.
Six trucks were parked there, guarded by caravan escorts and mercenaries, surrounded by a ring of heavily armed soldiers.
Wu Wenzhou had just stepped down from one of the trucks and was speaking with an officer who had come forward to question him. Soon, several soldiers carrying LD-47 assault rifles walked up and dragged down a few wooden crates.
One soldier pried the boxes open with a crowbar, revealing stacks of golden ammunition and neatly packed rifles.
It was precisely the goods Zhao Tiangan needed.
Seeing them, Zhao’s face...
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